The Charm
by PardonMyDust
Summary: Legend meets fact in this, Grandma's last gift to Gordon.


A/N: I have set up a series of challenges for myself to stretch my creativity beyond what I normally write, and have decided the 'Thunderbirds' universe is one that will do just that. This first time out, I've challenged myself to write a story which prominently features Valentine's Day as part of the story but **not** for romantic involvement. Therefore, while it is nowhere near February 14th, here is the result of my personal challenge. I do hope you enjoy it!

The Charm

By PardonMyDust

I was younger then. Oh, so much younger and much less brittle than now. It doesn't seem possible that forty years have passed since that day. Midnight approaches and normally I am asleep but not this night. I know my time is near, I'm ever so old, and I feel the welcoming arms of the Dead come to take me.

Listen to me, talking of the Dead coming. I've been chatting with Kyrano far too much this past year. He knows why and I think I knew it, too. But this is not about me, no, not at all. This is about you. Of course, as each of you were born everything became about all of you, especially so when your mother died. But you, oh, you were a fiery little soul and the one I think I have always been closest to. So as I lay here barely able to move, the nurse nodding off at my bedside, I use this little gadget Brains invented for me to compose this memoir for your birthday.

I haven't been able to get to the mainland, of course, and bless Tin-Tin, she offered to purchase you a gift from me. But no. This is what I need to give you. It's something you need to know, something your father doesn't even know. Because now, at 12:01 a.m., it is your fortieth birthday, Gordon Tracy. And it's time you knew.

It was the _Sian a Bheatha Bhuan_, my boy. Oh, you don't know that ancient language, but I will tell it to you in Gaelic and English, and explain.

As you know, my family came from Scotland and the lineage can be traced back to the Celts in the western Highlands and beyond. One of the most frequent stories my father told us when I was a girl was of what an ancestor of mine died to Macleod of Bearnaray, Harris when he happened through her husband's farmlands on his way to join the Prince. Charlie, I believe his name was and the year was 1745.

"It was a charm she set upon him," my father used to say. "And don't you know that at Culloden that fateful day, the bullets didna kill him, nay. Macleod he ran and so they say, his coat he left behind that day. Full of holes, that coat sure be but nary a drop o' blood to see."

Ah, Gordon, now don't please sit there listening to this thought recording and thinking your old granny's gone senile just before she passed away. No, I haven't, you see, this really is leading somewhere.

That ancestor of mine, the one I mentioned before Macleod? Well what she'd done to him was make it impossible for him to get hurt. And how she did it was by reciting a charm. Back in those days the Celts used ever so many charms, even just in daily life for the simplest things. They were incantations, if you will, things you said to get the result you wanted.\

Dearshul was her name, and she was quite known at the time to be one whose charms seemed to work when others' didn't. This charm, I'll recite it for you here, the way my father and my grandfather told it to us:

Cuirim an seun air do chom,  
Agus air do shealbhachd,  
Seun Dhe nan dul  
Chum do thearmaid.

This means

I place the charm on thy body,  
And on thy prosperity,  
The charm of the God of life  
For thy protection.

An seun a chuir Bride nan ni  
Mu mhuineal min Dhornghil,  
An seun a chuir Moire mu Mac,  
Eadar bonn agus broghaid,  
Eadar cioch agus glun,  
Eadar cul agus broth,  
Eadar braigh agus bonn,  
Eadar suil agus folt.

And this means

The charm that Bride of the kine  
Put round the fair neck of Dornghil,  
The charm that Mary put about her Son,  
Between sole and throat,  
Between pap and knee,  
Between back and breast,  
Between chest and sole,  
Between eye and hair.

Cliar Mhicheil air do thaobh,  
Sgiath Mhicheil air do shlinnean,  
Ni bheil eadar neamh is lar  
Na bheir buaidh air Righ nan gras.

The host of Michael on thy side,  
The shield of Michael on thy shoulder,  
There is not between heaven and earth  
That can overcome the King of grace.

Cha reub lainn thu,  
Cha mhill muir thu,  
Cha teum mnaoi thu,  
Cha treann duin thu.

No spear shall rive thee,  
No sea shall drown thee, now remember that, Gordon, it's important.  
No woman shall wile thee,  
No man shall wound thee.

Brat Chriosda fein umad,  
Sgath Chriosda fein tharad,  
Bho mhullach do chinn  
Gu buinn do chas.

The mantle of Christ Himself about thee,  
The shadow of Christ Himself above thee,  
From the crown of thy head  
To the soles of thy feet.

Ta seun De ort a nis,  
Cha teid gu brath ort ailis.

The charm of God is on thee now,  
Thou shalt never know disgrace.

Theid thu mach an ainm do Righ,  
Thig thu steach an ainm do Phriomh,  
Is le Dia nan dul thu nis gu h-uilidh,  
Agus leis na Cumhachdan comhla.

Thou shalt go forth in name of thy King,  
Thou shalt come in in name of thy Chief,  
To the God of life thou now belongest wholly,  
And to all the Powers together.

Cuirim an seun seo moch Di-luain,  
An ceum cruaidh, druiseach, droigheach,  
Falbh a mach 's an seun mu d' chom,  
Is na biodh bonn eagail ort.

I place this charm early on Monday,  
In passage hard, brambly, thorny,  
Go thou out and the charm about thy body,  
And be not the least fear upon thee.

Diridh tu cirein nan stuc,  
Dionar tu a thaobh do chuil,  
Is tu an eala chiuin 's a bhlar,  
Cumhnar tu am measg nan ar,  
Seasaidh tu troimh choig ceud,  
Is bidh t'eircirich an sas.

Thou shalt ascend the crest of the hill,  
Protected thou shalt be behind thee,  
Thou art the calm swan in battle,  
Preserved thou shalt be amidst the slaughter,  
Stand thou canst against five hundred,  
And thine oppressors shall be seized.

Seun De umad!  
Feun De tharad!

The charm of God about thee!  
The arm of God above thee!

I know it's long, Gordon, and I apologize. But it's important that you know it, that you learn it. Remember when I recited the part that says 'No sea shall drown thee'? Bearneray was an island. Dearshul had gone there of her own accord to be married, away from where my ancestors had always lived in Crovie, the cliffs of Buchan always so close. But Dearshul was a feisty one, much like you I would imagine, and went her own way.

She was very much of the sea and therefore would somehow work the sea into many of her charms. And so I tell you this old story, my cherished little boy-turned man, because of what happened the night that you were born. At precisely half past three when your mother and father had gone to sleep, I sat awake just watching you. You were all miracles, and each birth filled with joy, but you...I felt something was different.

It turns out I was right!

You see, it is said that Dearshul comes once in a generation to gift the charm upon the one she feels is most in need of it, and most worthy of it. It came to pass after so many generations that this chosen one was always called simply, 'The Charm.'

There in the still of the dark room you shared with John, you in your bassinet, a breeze stirred. A glow seemed to fill the room and the sound of water flowing filled my ears. I stood so fast if I'd had false teeth I'm sure they would've rattled across the floor. She materialized in front of me as sure as you were born.

I didn't know who it was. I was half-scared to death and half-unable to believe my eyes. She had long red hair tied back at the top, but blowing in the wind, a coppery tint to it. She wore a long, white gown and it was adorned with a sash and armbands of dark orange, a matching scarf hanging from her shoulder that stayed in place even though the breeze blew harder.

Then suddenly everything went still. I could still hear the water, only it sounded more like the ocean, how it sounds here on the island lapping at the sand. She paid me no mind at all, just approached you and you were wide-eyed looking right up at her. I would swear you smiled, even though you weren't but a few hours old, Gordon.

It was magical. Her voice sounded like you once described the mermaids must have sounded when they sang. You were only a boy when you said that, but it brought this to mind even so. She placed her hand on your forehead and in her hand was something small that I couldn't see, but later I realized it was the physical token of her charm, I'm sure of it. That was when she placed it on you, the _Sian a Bheatha Bhuan_. _Charm of the Lasting Life_.

Remember it well, Gordon. I fear I must stop now, as I am very tired and doubt that I'll see the sunrise today. But it is your birthday – February 14th. And I know deep in my heart that you will have many, many more birthdays to come. I believe with every fibre of my being that the woman who came to you that day you were born was Dearshul. That is why the sea can't hurt you. That is why you have become who you are.

No man shall wound thee.  
Preserved thou shalt be amidst the slaughter.

Gordon, this is my final gift to you. I love you and I will always be with you. Remember Dearshul, for if you are ever in danger...you will survive. In this generation, _you_ are The Charm. Happy Valentine's Day. And Happy Birthday.

References:

1) Alexander Carmichael, Carmina Gadelica, Volume II (Evinity Publishing, Inc. 2009) 26

2) Alexander Carmichael, Carmina Gadelica, Volume II (Evinity Publishing, Inc. 2009) 32-3


End file.
